


Clark Will Be Coming

by marshalmeg



Category: RPF - 18th-19th c Arts and Sciences
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshalmeg/pseuds/marshalmeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the expedition, could there be another factor contributing to Lewis' depression?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clark Will Be Coming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [osito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/osito/gifts).



The darkness and the cold of the room he had rented was unrelenting to Meriwether Lewis. He had never been cold before, not truly cold. Previously there had been the other members of the Corps of Discovery sleeping around him, snoring contentedly or muttering to themselves in their sleep. There had been Clark, his dearest friend, as well. Before his marriage he had been... Lewis did not want to use the word 'available' but it was the only one that occurred to him. Clark was tall, red-haired, muscular and attractive in a way that inspired an ache deap within his being, an ache he could do nothing but regret. It was this ache he admitted under his breath that had prohibited any woman he had every desired from agreeing to marriage. He had never truly desired these woman, he admitted this to himself now, and they had sensed it. There was always the memory of Clark.

The river, Lewis told himself that he should have known it then. He had talked himself out of a fit of anger at the time. It would have been illogical to the men and they depended upon their captains. Captain Clark names a river after a girl back in Virginia and Captain Lewis refuses to speak with him except in short snappish bursts for a couple of days. No, not acceptable.

Meriwether glanced at the last of the whiskey in his glass. This was his only comfort. It dulled his inhibitions. He brought it to his mouth and sipped, the alcohol burning as it descended.

"Clark what are you...?"

A large, warm, hand was placed over his mouth. A deep voice hissed a "Shhhhh" into his ear.

"We have to be quiet about this. I think a few of the others are starting to suspect."

Lewis wanted to inquire which ones but that question was soon driven from his mind by the heaviness of Clark's body on top of his own. Clothing was quickly and silently shed, skin pressed against skin. He clenched his teeth, determined to heed Clark's warning. Silent. One particular moan could not be stifled as Clark's hand found the trobbing hardness between Lewis' legs. They had been separated for some time while Lewis had sought out the horses necessary for the continuation of their journey. The disappointment embodied by the near-endless mountains had dulled other desires and made the separation acceptable but it had now returned in full force

"I see you missed me," Clark whispered into Lewis' ear, then kissed him roughly below it.

Lewis nodded, letting his hardness further reassure Clark that this was the case. It sought out the touch of those large fingers.

He opened his eyes, the familiar smell of buffalo fur and the remnants of whiskey punctuated the fact that this had been a dream. It was always a dream now.

Clark, Lewis reflected, had always seemed to wind up on top in their nighttime encounters. This was another thing he tried not to over-analyze, convincing himself that it simply felt most comfortable this way. He had insisted that Clark take an equal role in leadership of the expedition and Clark had commented that there was a certain irony in the whole thing. There was also an insistence that Lewis tended to sell himself short.

"You are a whole lot better at this then you think you are."

Generally Lewis would shrug and insist that Clark was flattering him while Clark argued that this was not the case. Perhaps he should have reassured Clark that these statements were necessary, that they meant as much to him as they did. Maybe if he had, maybe Clark would be there. Maybe he would not be alone and abandoned. He slipped a hand under the blanket and caressed what he found there, eyes clenched shut, trying to picture Clark. Thick red hair, deep-voiced, a sheen of perspiration on his tanned skin, and filling Lewis so completely and pleasurably.

"I love you, William."

"Love you too, Meriwether," he could almost hear Clark whisper, spent and half-asleep beside him.

Something cold and metallic touched Lewis' leg, startling him. He reached for it, fingers curling around metal and highly-polished wood. The pistol taunted him and he snarled at himself not to listen to its promise of relief from the torment that had haunted him since the expedition's return.

"Clark?" he whimpered. "Clark, where are you? Come save me, Clark. Save me."

Shaking, he gripped the pistol tighter. There would never be another great journey with the Corps of Discovery. It had been his reason for living, he knew, likely the very reason he had been born. Without it was there any point in going on and making a bigger fool of himself than he already had. An incompetent governor, a drunk, lonely, broken, abandoned and disliked. Was it such a terrible thing to wish they had never returned, or that the rivers had flowed eternally into the great untamed west?

A knock on the door made Lewis yelp. He covered the pistol quickly. "Y-yes?" He tried to swallow, throat dry and tongue like leather.

"Governor Lewis? Is everything alright, sir?"

The door opened just a bit and Lewis nodded. "Fine. Just fine. Clark... Clark will be coming."


End file.
